


All aboard

by DracoIgnis



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Cunnilingus, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Jonerys, Oral Sex, Power Play, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, captain daenerys, captain jon snow, smut with minimal plot, tied-up jon snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 20:28:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21124754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoIgnis/pseuds/DracoIgnis
Summary: Navy Captain Jon Snow is hunting down pirates. When he meets merchant Daenerys Targaryen, he confides in her to earn her admiration. But perhaps she is more than just a merchant - and perhaps he is about to get put in his place. A Jonerys AU short story with original artwork.





	All aboard

..

The first time Jon met Daenerys, he believed her to be a tavern wench.

She had claimed the best seat by the fire, her chair pulled so close that the flames almost licked up her skirt. It was red wool, he noticed as he neared her, pulled over a thin linen dress. Her waist was held in place with a black bodice, the strings tied so tightly that her teats almost spilled over the edge of the leather. As he stopped at her side, Jon had to force his gaze away from the deep cleavage to her eyes which looked upon him with wonder.

“Miss,” he greeted, and he slipped off his hat to hold it at his chest, “Would you mind some company?”

The lady cocked her head as she took in his frame. “Lieutenant, I presume?” she asked.

Jon shook his head. “Captain, miss,” he corrected her, his voice perfectly pleasant although her question had made his throat itch. With an attempt to maintain an air of importance, he straightened up in his uniform, causing the long, blue coat to flutter akin the flames. “Naval Captain Jon Snow,” he spoke.

“Captain, Lieutantant - ‘tis all the same to me,” the lady spoke. Her voice was bathed in dullness, although her eyes still twinkled when she looked upon him. “My company is not priced. If you seek the embrace of a woman, _ Captain Snow, _ you’d be better off on t’ street.”

Jon’s cheeks flushed at her bold words, and he couldn’t help but shake his head in haste. “No, miss,” he spoke at once, “you misunderstand. I merely wish to enjoy the fire.”

“‘Tis not mine to give,” she spoke, yet gestured at the empty chair beside her. As Jon seated himself, she swung the whiskey around her glass as she eyed him. “I do not own the place, and I am not employed to entertain. I’m just like you’self, Captain - a person with a thirst.” She raised her glass and smiled before gulping down half the whiskey with ease.

Jon, wrinkling his nose at her unladylike behaviour, merely sipped his ale with a nod. _ We are nothing alike_, he thought, _ for I know my place, whereas you seem confuse men’s acceptance with approval. _ Yet, he could not stop his eyes from wandering her frame; from the tips of her blackened boots to the top of her silver hair. The locks were curled and partially tied back with beads as thick as gemstones.

As she caught him looking, she reached up to touch one of the pearls with a smile. “I am a merchant,” she explained, “so I oft handle fine ware.”

“I take it the source of your trade may be less delicate,” Jon spoke.

“Whatever make’ you say that?”

“We are close to port. I hear pirates and privateers alike have taken a liking to these parts.”

“You accuse me of bein’ a criminal?” the lady spoke and clicked her tongue. Her eyes glimmered with disapproval as she sighed: “That’s _ very _ unlike a gentleman.”

Jon reddened. “I mean no disrespect, miss,” he assured her, “but it’s my job to question.”

“I thought your job was t’ be at sea?” she retorted. She emptied her glass, placed it upon the table and leaned back in her chair with raised brows as she smirked: “Seems like you’ve already failed t’ first hurdle, Captain.”

As she folded her arms at her chest and chuckled, Jon thought to himself, _ She is begging for punishment. _

Jon had only been on land for two weeks, yet he was itching to get back onto his ship. Surely, towns offered a certain lavish living that no captains’ cabin could match; with enough coin, there was always a clean bed to be found, a lovely lady to entertain, fine liquor to drink, and clean water to wash in. Even away from his crew, his uniform demanded respect; whoever laid eyes on his embroidered coat and white breeches knew him to be of importance, and they held him in high esteem.

_ All but this wench, _ Jon thought, licking his thin lips for the taste of ale as he gazed into the lady’s violet eyes. “Your name, miss?” he asked.

She raised her brows. “Pardon?”

“You never spoke your name,” Jon pointed out.

The lady seemed to contemplate his words as she twirled a loose lock around her finger. The way she pouted her lips in ponder made something in Jon stir, and he moved in his seat as he sipped his ale once more. “Daenerys,” she finally spoke.

“Daenerys,” he repeated.

“‘Tis my name.”

“Just the first - does miss not have a last name?”

She smiled wickedly at his question, and she leaned over the armrest to be closer to him. “Well, Captain,” she said, her bosom almost resting onto his arm, “unless you plan to wed me, I don’t see how ‘tis of importance.”

Jon gazed down at her teats - fleshy they were, and inviting. _ She may be a woman of impertinence, _ he thought, his mouth watering slightly as she wriggled her shoulders, causing her breasts to spill further over the bodice, _ but she is also a temptress, and there is nothing more alluring than a woman who looks at you with lust. _ Indeed, when he glanced into her eyes, she looked back at him with such boldness that his throat dried. “Miss,” he spoke.

“Captain,” she replied innocently, swirling that lock of hair so tightly around her finger that it could do nothing but bounce off in a twirl. She blinked slowly, her black eyelashes waving him closer.

Jon leaned in. “Miss, I sense you have not heard my name,” he said.

“You spoke it earlier,” she reminded him, “Captain Jon Snow. I’ve heard it and I’ve remember’d it.”

“But it carries no meaning to you,” he said.

“I kno’ of captains,” Daenerys proclaimed. “They come here oft. You said so you’self,” she spoke, “we are close to a port.”

“My name is certainly known,” he said, “and I fear miss would behave differently did she know my trade.”

“Why fear when you can just speak?” the lady replied with a wry smile. She reached over, her hands following the white facings of his coat, then tracing the golden embroiderment across his chest. As Jon sucked in air, she pressed her hand atop his heart and looked up at him from between her lashes: “Tell me, Captain, who are you?”

“I am commissioned by the Queen herself to track down pirates,” Jon spoke, his gaze locked with hers. He could sense something in her shift at his words, something which paled her cheeks and made her eyes widen. _ She is in awe, _ he thought, feeling his heart flutter, _ she is impressed. _

“You’re a pirate hunter?” Daenerys whispered. Her fingertips slipped down his chest, feeling the richness of the fabric, and Jon pushed himself a bit closer to her hand. He was enjoying her attention.

“The most successful around,” he spoke, his voice dripping with arrogance. He placed his hand atop hers as he felt her cold skin beneath his rough palm. “I shall be at sea tomorrow, searching for the famed Viserys. Trust that I will not return empty-handed.”

“Is that so?” the lady spoke, her hand trapped beneath his. She cocked her head as she continued: “But he is known to be wicked. I hear he takes no prisoners, not even when merchant ships give up without a fight. No man alive has seen his face.” She licked her plump lips, causing the glistening fire to reflect in their wetness.

Jon sucked in air. “I have no fear,” he assured her.

“That’s very _ brave _ of you,” she said. Her hand beneath his was slipping. Jon still had his palm pressed to her knuckles, but he let her lead - down his chest, his stomach, toward his breeches. As he sensed the direction she was leading him, he glanced about them.

_ I cannot risk my reputation, _ he reminded himself though his cock stirred, _ not for an eve of pleasure. _ But the tavern was mostly empty. The men at the tables behind them were engrossed in chatter and paying them no heed. Still, sweat formed at his hairline, and before she could reach his groin, he closed his fingers around her hand and pulled it off of him.

“Miss,” he said, “you flatter me.”

“Oh no,” she spoke, glancing at her hand in his. She then tucked at it, leading him to her chest and, before he knew of it, pressed his rough palm to her soft teat. With his hand on her, she swiftly reached back down and closed her palm at his groin, squeezing his cock through his thin breeches as she smiled: “‘Tis me that is flattered. That a man of such status - of such _ importance _ \- would speak with me?” She let the words hang in the air as her fingertips traced the full girth of his length through the fabric.

Jon’s nostrils flared as he took in a deep breath through his nose. All the blood in his body was travelling south, and he was trying to keep his mind unclouded. Yet, desire was overtaking his brain, and he could feel any rational thought drowning in need. “Miss,” he said, his hand squeezing at her teat. _ She is so soft, just like a woman should be, _ he thought, _ but she is also brimming with lust, unlike any I have ever met. _ As he traced the shape of her bosom, he sunk further into the chair, his body unable to keep straight.

“Captain,” Daenerys replied. She licked her lips once more, leaning so close that he could smell the crass whiskey on her breath. “You sail tomorro’?” she asked and waited for him to nod. “Then I gather you’re staying here for t’ night?”

“I’ve got a room,” Jon agreed.

Daenerys’ fingers squeezed his cock as she looked into his eyes and smiled: “May I see it?”

Jon, shuddering and red, could only nod.

* * *

They bothered not to remove their clothes; as the door closed behind them, Jon pushed Daenerys onto his bed, and she dragged him atop her, causing the skirts to ride up her legs. Their lips met in a sloppy kiss that tasted of ale, and whiskey, and perfume, and sweat. Jon traced Daenerys’ teeth before letting his tongue search her mouth, and she let him, his lips swallowing her moans.

“Oh, Captain,” she whispered, and her voice made Jon’s cock throb. “I want you t’ fuck me.”

Jon pushed his hands alongside her fleshy thighs, beneath her skirt, all the way to her naked sex. As he touched her, he felt her tremble beneath him, and he leaned in over her to take in her face. She was pink, he noticed, her cheeks as bright as her eyes, and her lips parted perfectly in moans of pleasure as he started rubbing her nub.

“Say that again,” he asked, the tips of his fingers pushing between her lips, prodding at her tight entrance. As she squirmed, he placed his other hand atop her breast, pushing her back into the mattress as his first finger slipped inside of her wet sex. “Say that again.”

Daenerys was rocking her hips up to meet with his teasing hand as he slowly started fucking her with his rough fingers. He pushed himself in, curling his tips to stroke across her sensitive inners before he slowly retreated, only to fill her with one more finger. As he stretched her, she arched her back and whispered: “You know what I said.”

Jon licked his lips, a third finger now pushing into her. As he sunk inside, he used his thumb on her nub, rubbing in circles around her sensitive spot as she wriggled beneath him. _ She is perfect, _ he thought, his other hand playfully clenching her breast. As he gave it a tug, it came loose of her shirt, and the sight of a soft, pink nipple met him. _ I shall think of nothing else when I’m at sea. _

“Say it again,” he urged her once more, his thumb pressing to her nub.

Daenerys thrashed her head back onto the mattress, her silver locks spilling across the duvet as she moaned: “Fuck me, Captain, I want you t’ fuck me!”

Jon needed no more encouragement - he pulled his fingers out to undo his breeches, and he shuddered as his warm cock was surrounded with the cold air of the room. There was not much in there but for the bed, and when he first arrived, he had complained that his coin should be worth more than a thin mattress. Now, however, nothing else mattered but the wet cunt in front of him, and as he pushed himself inside of her, he groaned at the warmth that embraced him.

Daenerys was tight, but willing; her muscles clenched around him, dragging him further inside, and her legs grabbed around his waist, urging him closer. Jon complied - he leaned in over her small frame, a hand on each side of her face, and, as their gazes locked, he pushed himself all the way into her cunt.

His sudden movement made Daenerys gasp in air. Her fingers sought his hair, and she grabbed a handful of his black, curly locks, his hat carelessly falling to the floor. “Gods, you fill me up!” she groaned.

Jon could not manage a reply, so he merely dipped his head down to her ear and moaned as he started thrusting into her. He was needy; it had been months since his last fuck. Whenever he was not at sea, business on land took up much of his time. Always surrounded by men, it was easy to forget the pleasure that a woman could offer, but now, with one so beautiful wriggling beneath him, his spirit was lifted.

Soon, he found his lips travelling across her body, tasting her chin, her neck, her collarbone, then her breasts. They closed around her hardened nipple, slightly pulling at it until her back arched and she pushed his face into her cleavage.

“You’re a naughty man, Captain,” she whispered with a smile, peeking down at him as his nose sunk between her teats.

Jon licked his way back up to her lips, pecking them shortly. “And you’re an unruly woman” he spoke, grabbing a hold of her legs “for making me want you this much”. As he knelt onto the bed, he bent her knees toward her chest, pushing her body down into the mattress as he presented her cunt for fucking. As he glanced at the pink, wet lips stretched around his fat girth, he couldn’t help but shiver with pleasure.

Daenerys wriggled her toes and blushed as he eyed her naked sex. “Wantin’ the memory to last?” she asked in a tease.

Jon flushed and swiftly pushed himself back into her, silencing her with a moan. As he started fucking her, bending her body into itself, she grabbed a hold of the duvet around her.

“Wherever did you learn such _ bad behaviour_?” she asked, but the smile on her lips was deep. She sunk further into the mattress, allowing him to take her more deeply than any man had before.

Jon shook his head as sweat started running down his forehead to his beard, and he sniffed in air through his nose. “Seems you bring the worst out in me,” he replied curtly. He was close - as his body shivered with pleasure, he heard himself ask: “Am I the first captain to have you?” He wasn’t sure why he asked, and he felt stupid at once, but a certain pride in him lingered. He wanted to be the first. He wanted to be the best. So when she looked up at him, her bright eyes now darkened with lust, and she spoke:

“You’re t’ first, Captain Snow,”

\- he simply couldn’t hold back any longer. He came deep inside of her, his cock pulsating as waves of pleasure rolled in over him, and he scarcely heard her whine as an orgasm shuddered through her own body. Her thighs in his hands trembled, more so when he finally let go, allowing her to stretch out on the bed.

Her body was pink and glistening with sweat as he settled next to her, wiping a thin line of cum off his breeches. She was breathing in deeply, her fingertips pulling at her tight bodice to allow more air into her lungs. Her soft breast was still exposed, and he leaned in and kissed it once more, a smirk on his lips. “Thank you, miss,” he said, glancing up at her flustered face. “It was a pleasure to get to know you.”

“I sense it won’t be the last time that we meet,” she replied in a breathless tone, a small smile playing on her lips. She pushed his face away as she tucked her tit back into the fabric of her shirt. “In fact, Captain-” she sat up, grabbing a hold of his face as she glanced into his vexed eyes, “I sense we shall meet again very soon.”

* * *

The second time Jon met Daenerys, he believed her to be a wicked man.

He had been tied up for three days straight. The first day he was scarcely awake, his head hurting, his body numb, and his mind struggling to come to grips with the fact that his ship had been claimed. As he dozed in and out of sleep, he remembered the battle:

It was early morning when he was awoken by his cabin boy. The young lad had urged him to get up at once. “Captain, we’re under attack,” he said in haste.

Jon found it hard to believe him. “Under attack? In these waters?” They were only days away from port, and nowhere close to the coastlines that pirates favoured to attack. Still, as he reached the deck, he saw that the boy spoke the truth. There, ahead of them, fluttered the Targaryen flag - a black piece of fabric with a blood-red dragon on it, its three heads staring back down at him.

Before Jon could awaken all his men, they were under siege; scarred men jump aboard, urging them to submit or face torture. Jon, feeling assured that death was guaranteed either way, commanded his men to attack. But his crew seemed less certain than he, and he found himself alone in battle, wielding at first his musketoon, then, as he was disarmed, a flintlock pistol which he managed to wrestle off a pirate’s roughened hands.

Jon had been utterly unprepared, and as he licked the metallic taste of blood off his lips, he watched waves of pirates descend on him and thought, _ By the Gods, this is my end, for the men of Viserys the Wicked do not take prisoners. _ As he was hit in the back of the head, his eyes blackened, and he prayed all the way into his sleep.

As he woke on the second day, he was fed hardened meat and bitter rum by the ship’s surgeon. His eyes were still glazed over, and he could not focus on the man’s face, but he managed to ask: “Did we win?”

The surgeon searched the back of his head with a wry smile. “We did.”

“Then why am I tied?” Jon asked, wriggling his sore hands. The robes were so tight that circulation was almost cut, and his fingertips tickled numbly.

The surgeon settled in front of him, sitting still for long enough for Jon’s eyes to focus, and once they did, he realised that this was not the man from his own crew. This man was a stranger to him, and that meant he was aboard a stranger’s ship. “Because _ we _ won,” the surgeon emphasised and grinned, giving Jon sight of his rotting teeth.

Jon swallowed and clenched his eyes shut as he let his body sink back into sleep, and the last thing he heard was the surgeon tell someone:

“Just a bloody scratch, he’ll be fine.”

Then, on the third day, he was wide awake.

As Jon allowed his eyes to get used to the darkened cabin, he started making out the shape of things around him. To his right was a desk containing his only source of light - a golden candlestick holder with a single candle lit. To his left was a bed, the covers looking ever so soft from his place on the hardened floor. Further, toward the small steps leading down into the cabin, was a collection of riches he had not seen since visiting the Queen herself;

Delicate paintings framed in gold, wooden boxes brimming with bottles of fine rum and whiskey, rolls of silk in all the colours known to man, topped with jewelled necklaces, rings, and bracelets, one glimmering more costly than the next. As Jon stretched his neck to get a better view, he felt his heart sink as he noted something familiar.

_ That’s my coat, _ he thought, recognising the thick blue, embroidered coat hanging on the wall. It was then that he realised he was in his thin shirt and breeches only, his very body robbed of anything of worth. He gritted his teeth as he leaned back against the wooden pillar to which he was tied, and he thought, _ I’ll be dead before I see that wicked man masquerading in the Navy’s uniform. _

It was then that the door swung open, and Jon felt his heart jump to his throat. A pair of black leather boots stepped onto the stairs, waiting as the door closed behind them. Then, slowly, they started descending, the wood creaking under their every move.

Before he could see the person before him, Jon cleared his throat as he built up the courage to speak: “Viserys the Wicked!” His voice was hoarse, and he clenched his jaw in anger at himself. _ I cannot appear weak, _ he thought and fisted his hands, ripping at the rope. It did not give an inch. _ I must be strong until the end. _ As the shape of the person slowly came out of the shadows, lit up by the sparse candlelight, Jon saw golden rings glimmering on frail fingers and a bodice, black as sod, tied tightly around the waist.

He almost laughed with scorn. “You parade yourself like a woman,” he spat. “However did you get anyone to respect you?” As the Captain did not answer, Jon felt his cheeks redden with anger. Once more, he tugged at the ropes, only to find them too tight to move. “You can’t even speak?” he shouted. His heart was beating quickly at his chest, so much so that he thought his ribs would break. “You’re nothing but a _ coward_!”

“Oh, Captain Snow,” a voice spoke, but it was not as deep as he’d expected. Instead, it was light and soaked in amusement. It caught Jon so off guard that his lips snapped shut, and he stared as the person walked all the way down the stairs and then stepped into the sparse light. It was no man - it was a woman. “I did say we would meet again very soon - but look, you’ve already forgotten how t’ treat a lady!”

_ Daenerys_, Jon thought baffled as he laid eyes on her.

It was truly her; the same alluring, violet eyes, stark silver locks, and red lips tucked into a pleasant smile. But she was no longer dressed like a tavern wench - she was standing like a Captain, jewelled like a Queen. Her boots were that of a man, heavy and thick, and so were her breeches; they hung around her fleshy thighs, covering up every inch he had so greedily felt just days earlier. Beneath her bodice she wore a white shirt, and around her waist hung leather belts heavy with pistols.

She leaned down to meet his eyes, her hands at her sides as she whispered: “Hello again, Captain Snow.”

Jon swallowed. “I wish to speak to the Captain,” he said, his voice slightly shaky.

Daenerys laughed. “Oh, but you are!”

“No,” Jon assured her as he shook his head, “I want to speak to the _ Captain. _ This is the Targaryen vessel, is it not?” He waited for her to nod, then continued: “I wish to see Viserys. Viserys the Wicked.”

“Oh, you’d have to travel far to meet my useless brother,” Daenerys spoke as she squatted before him.

It was strange, Jon thought, to see a woman in breeches - that she could sit like that and not be exposed? It baffled him and dried his lips, and he couldn’t help but to look between her legs.

Daenerys leaned her elbows onto her knees as she rested her chin in her hand, taking in the sight of him with a slight smile. “My brother is dead,” she explained as Jon seemed unable to speak. “He died years ago. I’m afraid life on t’ sea wasn’t for him. He was killed in his very first battle.”

“You have used his name,” Jon whispered as things settled in his mind.

Daenerys laughed. “I have done no such thing, Captain! You all have done that you’self. I’ve never claimed to be a man, but when rumours of a strong pirate emerged?” She shrugged, rolling her eyes. “Well, you all decided it must be a man.”

“You’re masquerading like one,” he spat, glancing from her breeches to her smirking face.

She cocked her head. “First I’m a man pretendin’ to be a woman, and now you accuse me of t’ opposite? Why, I’d be inclined to think you can’t make up your mind at all, Captain.”

Jon flushed at her words, and he pressed his back flat against the pole, trying to straighten up slightly. “If you wish me dead, get it over with,” he said.

At his brash words, Daenerys seemed to blink. For a second, he thought she looked almost impressed. Then she stood back up as she walked around the desk, searching through the drawers. As she returned, it was with a bottle of rum in hand. “Want a drink?” she asked.

Jon bit his inner cheek as he felt his dry tongue wriggle. _ You can’t trust her, _ he thought, but still he nodded. He watched as Daenerys bit off the cork, then held the bottle to his lips to allow him to drink.

Though the taste was strong, Jon swallowed with eagerness, feeling relief as his dry, itchy throat was bathed in liquid once more. As she pulled the bottleneck away, he felt rum run down his lips to his beard, and she wiped his chin with a laugh.

“Greedy man.”

“You’ve played me for a fool,” Jon coughed. He licked his lips for the taste of alcohol as he glanced up at her.

She was eyeing him whilst drinking herself, her plump lips closing perfectly around the bottle’s opening.

“You let me fuck you believing you were just some wench,” he spoke, “and now you keep me alive to mock me.”

“Is that what you think?” she asked and held the bottle in front of his face. As he reached out to drink, she pulled it back, a smirk on her lips. “You played yourself, Captain. You walked into a pirate port and spoke openly about tracking me down. What would you have me do, surrender?” As Jon’s cheeks reddened, she pushed the bottle back to his lips and let him gulp down some more rum, but only as much as she’d let him. Before his thirst was quenched, she pulled it back once more to have another gulp herself: “Pathetic.”

Jon snorted in air through his nose as he looked up at her again. His mind was still confused, but the liquor was waking him up. The faint headache he’d felt over the last few days had subsided. Instead, he now felt a rage inside of him - it made his blood boil and his heartbeat quicken. More so when she squatted before him once more, giving him sight of her teats.

_ I should not lust for her, _ Jon reminded himself. His tongue darted around his mouth as he gathered every last taste of rum. _ She is wicked, and she is cruel. She has only kept me alive to torture me. _ “I told you before,” Jon said, forcing his gaze from her teats to her eyes, “If you wish me dead, do it now. Or perhaps you haven’t got it in you to kill a man?”

At his mockery, Daenerys slammed the bottle back onto the desk, and she grabbed at the pistol at her belt. With a swift hand, she withdrew it and pressed the cold silver to his forehead. “Don’t play me,” she said, her voice strong and her eyes glimmering.

There was something about the way that she looked at him that made Jon’s cock stir.

“You speak as if you’ve been wronged, but you bedded me thinking I was some innocent lass impressed by your status. If you think of you’self as a good man, you have only fooled you’self.” The silver barrel slipped down Jon’s face - past his nose, moustache, to his lips. She pressed it between his lips, into his mouth, and Jon tasted gunpowder and silver on his tongue.

Though he knew he shouldn’t feel enticed, there was something about her attitude that warmed Jon. Perhaps it was the fact that he had never been challenged by a woman. Perhaps it was the fact that her eyes rested on his breeches like they did the first night they met.

_ She still desires me, _ he thought, and the realisation baffled him. _ I am defeated, but she still lusts for me. _

As the barrel popped free of his lips, Jon spoke: “If you don’t intend to kill me, why am I here?”

Daenerys pressed the barrel under his chin as she lifted his face, glancing into his eyes with a little smile. “Truthfully? I do not know,” she said. “It’s true what I said - men who met me never lived to tell the tale. Yet,” she narrowed her eyes and pouted her lips slightly, causing Jon to squeeze his knees together to suppress the blood flow, “I find myself likin’ t’ look of you.”

She stood back up, popping the pistol into her belt, and Jon let go of a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding onto. For a moment, his heart stilled. _ She is not going to kill me, _ he thought, and then glanced up at her. She was watching him, hands on belt, as if she was contemplating her next move, and Jon decided to speak first:

“May be I like the look of you, too.”

His words made her smirk. “Is that so?” She rocked between the heel and toe of her boots for a moment, just watching him. Then, she pulled at her belt, undoing the clasp before throwing the leather onto her desk. “Tell me, Captain Snow,” she said as her fingertips dug into her breeches, then started pulling the buttons open, “Can those lips do more than talk?”

As she pulled the fabric aside, she revealed her pink, naked cunt. Jon licked his lips at once, the blood in him rushing so quickly all sounds in his ears were drowned out. As she walked closer, she took a hold of the pole to which he was tied, and she stepped around him, one leg on either side of him, as she presented him with her sex.

It was an audacious move; Jon had never before met a woman who exuberated such power, such decisiveness, such _ lust. _ Had it been weeks earlier, he would’ve scorned her. But now, he felt her attitude excite something in him. It was as if she awakened another Jon, one he’d known all along. One who wasn’t drunk on his own arrogance and privilege. One who was more wolf than man.

So when she hovered his mouth, he felt himself greedily meeting her sex with his tongue. He licked at her lips, feeling them spread around him, and he pushed his mouth between her legs, dipping himself into her wetness.

Daenerys moaned as Jon started licking at her cunt, and she let her breeches drop further, allowing her the freedom to push all the way down onto his face. With his head trapped against the pole, it was easy for her to rock back and forth across his face, and she slowly moved her hips, taking in the feeling of his roughened skin and soft lips and wet tongue all at once.

Jon’s face was getting sticky with her juices, but he didn’t mind at all. This close, he could smell her - it was a scent of sex and sweat, and the intimacy of a woman which he’d not known like this before. He dipped his tongue around, wanting to taste every part of her, before he pushed his nose close to her sex, allowing him to lick at her tight opening.

He knew he was doing it right as one of her hands went to his hair, clinging onto his black locks as he prodded at her opening, stretching his tongue as far as he could. It was a strange feeling, his body being trapped in one position as a woman used him for her pleasure only, yet every moan that escaped her lips made his cock stir.

“Oh, Captain Snow,” Daenerys said, her voice shivering, “maybe you’re a good man after all.” She chuckled at her own words, then bit her lips to suppress a moan as his tongue slipped just past her opening, tasting her soft inside. Her other hand dropped from the pole to his hair, and she grabbed a steady hold of his locks as she started rocking herself back and forth on his face with more fury, everything in her begging for contact.

Jon gasped to her flesh, finding himself surrounded by her wet cunt. It was hard to breathe with her juices filling his mouth, and her sex closing off his nostrils, but when he glanced up at her, he saw her pink cheeks, open lips, and lusty eyes, and he knew that he had to continue. That he _ wanted _ to.

Jon moved his fingers as she rode his face, trying to move life back into them. They were numb, and at his slight movement they tingled, sending shivers through his body. His legs too were feeling heavy, having mostly splayed out on the floor in an uncomfortable position, but now he felt them dragging on and down, his toes spreading in his boots as he was pulsating with pleasure.

_ Who knew tasting a woman could feel so good? _ he thought as his fat cock stirred, pushing itself against his breeches, begging to be freed. He closed his eyes as he ran his tongue around her nub, causing her to shudder. He liked how her thighs trembled around him, so he did it again, and again, until her legs seemed to close in on either side of him, locking his face in place as she pressed herself fully onto him, moaning with need.

“Oh Gods, oh Gods,” she whispered, her hands pulling at his hair. She dragged her fingertips through his locks, all the way out, then dug them back in to take hold again. It was like she was seeking something to hold on to, yet was unable to retain a grip, and she pressed her forehead to the wood, looking down at him as she rode his lips. “Oh _ Gods_!”

She came onto his lips, her sex pressed tight against his face, and Jon licked up the taste of her, the juices flowing past his greedy lips. He was feeling almost dizzy, locked in place between her wet sex and warm legs, and once she lifted herself off of him, his chin dropped to his chest as he gasped for air.

Daenerys stood above him for a moment, her hands slipping from his hair to the pole, and she kept herself on her shivering legs as she too took in a much needed breath. Then, she pushed herself back up, did up her breeches, and grabbed the bottle of rum for a swig. “You’re somethin’ else,” she said, eyeing Jon.

Jon glanced up at her with a weak smile. “Strange coming from you,” he said, earning a laugh from her.

She put the bottle back down as she stepped closer to him once more. Jon lifted his face, almost expecting her to present him with her cunt again, but instead she knelt, pushing her bottom onto his groin as she framed his face between her hands. “You’re somethin’ else,” she repeated. Then, she kissed him.

Her lips were soft against his wet once. As her tongue met his, Jon felt his heart flutter as he wondered if she could taste herself. _ She must_, he thought, as she allowed his tongue to roam her mouth, licking up the sheen of rum still on her tongue, _ She must taste herself. _ Somehow, the thought made his cock stir, and Daenerys rubbed her buttocks down onto his breeches at once.

“I should repay the kindness,” she smiled to his lips, and before Jon knew of it, her tongue started trailing down his neck, his shirt, then his chest; her fingers easily undid his shirt and pushed it up, allowing her lips to brush past his nipples, his stomach, further down to the edge of his breeches.

Jon watched in astonishment as she sunk between his legs, undid the buttons of his breeches, and then pulled out his throbbing cock. There was no shyness to her face, nor any hesitation - instead, she looked almost _ keen _ as she wrapped her soft lips around his fat cockhead and gave it a suck.

Jon groaned and pushed his head back against the pole, his hands clenching to fists once more. If her cunt had been warm on his lips, her lips on his cock were just as wet and full of heat, especially as she sunk her small mouth down around him, welcoming his girth between her lips. Her tongue darted around his cock, teasing at the sensitive skin beneath his head, then dragging alongside his member as if she wanted to taste all of him. Jon stretched his legs, then bent them, unable to find one position he could be calm in as her head bobbed up and down, taking in a bit more of him each time.

_ She has done this before, _ he realised, glancing down at her with reddened cheeks. His lips were slightly open, and though he tried to suppress it, he was groaning in pleasure. _ She knows exactly what feels good. _

Daenerys glanced up and met his eyes, and if her lips had not been stretched around his cock, he was sure she would’ve smirked. For now, she started rubbing his balls with the small of her hand whilst her mouth worked on him, lathering him in her spittle. He was throbbing in her mouth, dripping precum down her eager tongue, and he thought, _ If she continues much longer, I will come in her mouth. _

Perhaps she didn’t sense it, perhaps she didn’t care - Jon’s legs were shivering as she started moving her head up and down with more speed, sucking on more of his length than before, pushing him further into her tight mouth. Jon wriggled and gasped, jerking his hips up to meet her greedy lips, and he was just about to come as she pulled away.

Jon blinked in confusion as he glanced down at his wet, hard cock. It throbbed stiffly in the air as Daenerys stood up and wiped her mouth.

“No,” he whispered, then shook his head, “no, please, don’t leave me like this.”

“Didn’t you hear my crew when they boarded?” she asked, “We torture our men.”

Jon squirmed on the spot, thrashing his legs about as he could find nothing to rub against, nothing to bring him the release he needed. His face was bright red, and his lips shivering as he begged: “Please, don’t do this to me.”

“Oh, Captain Snow,” Daenerys spoke. She pushed her fingers through her hair, causing her locks to cascade down her shoulders. “Men are so easy t’ tease.”

“Do you do this to all men?” Jon asked in heat. He clenched his fists even more, trying to dig his nails into the palms of his hands. He wanted to feel pain - something to distract him from his throbbing cock. But he was brimming with need. “Do you fuck them all?”

“You sound almost jealous!” Daenerys spoke with quirked brows. She grabbed at the edge of her shirt as she pulled it down, revealing more of her shoulders, more of her chest, then past her teats. She let the fabric hang loosely around her bodice as she stretched her arms, her breasts rising and her nipples stiffening in the cold cabin air. “No, Captain Snow, I do not make a habit of fucking my prisoners. Where’s the dignity in that?”

“Then why-” Jon licked his lips. He could still taste her, and the scent alone made his cock throb again. He squirmed. “Why me?” His eyes rested on her breasts - how he longed to touch them, and kiss them.

“I told you,” Daenerys spoke, a slight amusement to her voice. She reached down to her breeches once more, undoing them, and he watched as they fell completely to the floor this time. She stepped out of them, then reached over her desk, grabbing for something in her belt, and for a moment, Jon was sure she was withdrawing her pistol once more.

But as she turned to face him, he saw a knife in her hand. The silver blade glimmered in the dim candlelight, and Jon pushed himself closer to the pole, fearing the worst.

“I told you,” Daenerys spoke again, and she slippered onto the floor, crawling over him on all fours. Her naked cunt brushed across his cock, and Jon groaned, wanting so badly to push himself up into her. But she didn’t pause; she crawled until she could kneel by his chest, then ran the silver of the blade alongside his neck, the sharpness nipping at his skin. “There is somethin’ about you,” she spoke, her voice vexed, “somethin’ that I like.” With that, she dipped the blade, pushed it around the pole, and cut through the rope.

At first, Jon could not believe it. When his hands fell to the ground, they were so numb he barely felt them land. Then, as he pulled them around, he glanced at his numb fingers, stuck in odd positions, and at the deep marks on his wrists left by the rope. He slowly started moving his fingers, one by one, stretching them and pulling them back to his palm, trying to sense if they were all alive - but Daenerys had less patience.

She grabbed at his hands, pushing his thumbs into her mouth as she glanced into his eyes. As her tongue darted around his fingers, the numbness only slowly subsiding, she smirked: “Look at what I’ve done t’ you.” Her fingertips traced the deep imprints on his wrists, and he moaned sorely. “Don’t you want t’ do something t’ me back?”

It was an offer, and he was not about to resist; at once, he grabbed at her waist as he pushed her to the floor. She gasped at his boldness as she slammed to the floorboards, his body pressing atop hers. As he pressed onto her, he grabbed the blade from her hand and flinged it aside somewhere in the cabin.

“You’ll regret that,” she spoke as she took a strong hold of his black locks, pulling until it hurt.

Jon flinched, but he smirked down at her, saying: “I need no weapon to fuck you.”

“Prove it,” she said, wrapping her legs around him as she toppled him over. In one moment, she was on top, and before he knew it, she grabbed a hold of his stiff cock as she led him inside of her wet cunt. He groaned as she closed around him, her warm, wet inners squeezing him unlike her mouth ever could. For a moment, he was content as she rode him, claiming his cock for her own pleasure, but soon, her teasing words rung in his ears again as she breathed: “Told you, should’ve kept t’ knife!”

He grabbed at her waist and swung them back around, holding her to the floor with his cock still embedded in her. She moaned and squirmed beneath him, but this time he was prepared for her tricks; he grabbed a hold of her legs, spreading them before him as he pushed himself all the way into her wetness, his balls resting at her soft flesh.

“You learn quick,” she whispered, arching her back as she was lost in pleasure. He filled her up so well, his fat cock stretching her sensitive inners, and all she wanted was for him to fuck her more.

“Got a strict teacher,” he spoke with a smirk. Then, he started fucking her with need, dragging his cock slightly out of her before pushing back inside, taking her on the floor. She rocked with his movements, her fingers grabbing a hold of whatever table leg she could scavenge, but his strength was greater; as he laid down on top of her, his hips jerking at his own rhythm, she moaned and instead clung onto his clothed back.

“Captain Snow,” she spoke, her teeth sinking into his earlobe as her warm breath slipped across his face, “you’re truly somethin’ else. I should keep you in my cabin and have you fuck me daily.”

Jon laughed breathlessly to her neck at the suggestion, although it made his chest tingle. Sweat was dripping down his forehead, and the more he fucked her, the closer he was to the edge. After all, he had almost come in her mouth. Her wet cunt was even better, and making him needier. “Is that how you plan to keep me?” he asked amused. He sunk his face down to lick at her exposed teats, and Daenerys moaned and pushed her hands through his hair.

“If you please me,” she said breathlessly, but Jon already knew that he did.

As he pushed into her one last time, he came, spilling his seed in her cunt. Daenerys whimpered as he grunted and sunk down atop her, his weight keeping her tight with the floor, and she rocked up against him, her nub slipping against his member until she came herself.

As she shivered through her orgasm, she wrapped her arms around him and held him close, gasping for air against his neck.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, Jon slowly lifted himself onto all fours as he slipped out of her and tucked his soft member away in his breeches. He wiped sweat off his forehead as he looked upon her, spread out on the floor before him, smiling and gasping for air.

“By the Gods,” he whispered, his eyes slipping from her face to her cunt, and he stood up, grabbed the bottle of rum off the desk, and finished it. “If I hadn’t seen the surgeon myself, I wouldn’t believe I was truly a prisoner. Tell me - who’s behind that door?” he asked and gestured at the only exit.

Daenerys ran her fingers through her tangled locks as she slowly sat up, tucking her breasts back into her shirt. “My whole crew,” she spoke plainly. “Better armed now that they’ve got your men’s weapons.”

“I gather you will not return my ship?” he spoke.

“Your ship is no more,” Daenerys said. “Your men all turned their back on you. Do you not remember the fight?”

Jon leaned against the desk as he closed his eyes. The memories flooded back - him fighting alone. “Cowards,” he spat. Once he blinked his eyes open again, she was standing before him.

“I don’t like cowards, but I have a soft spot for fools,” she spoke as she stroked his cheek, a naughty glimpse to her eyes. She grabbed a hold of his hand as she led it between her legs, placing it on her soft sex. “So what d’you say, Captain Snow? Ready to serve a new form of justice?”

As Jon looked into his eyes, he felt his cock stir, and he thought, _ Serving can truly be a pleasure in its own. _

**Author's Note:**

> From vikings to wild west to pirates.. I seem to be enjoying historic smut these days! Thanks to DragonandDirewolf for the art, and thanks to all of you who read, comment, and leave me kudos. You make it worth it! We're almost at an end, not many more stories to go before the end of the month, but not to worry - I have a longer one planned!


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